


Hello Again

by jaxxOnasty



Series: DMH FF.NET HP Reposts/Rewrites [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comatose Harry Potter, Established Relationship, M/M, My First Fanfic, Not Canon Compliant, Secret Relationship, at all, background Weasleys - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 16:14:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18876682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaxxOnasty/pseuds/jaxxOnasty
Summary: Harry Potter – savior of the wizarding world, the Chosen One, and the Boy-Who-Lived – was empty. That was the only way they could explain it.Harry Potter was empty.And Draco Malfoy was alone.-Reposted from ff.net





	Hello Again

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first fanfic I'd ever written. I had just started college for Architecture (like anyone needs more architects), Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix movie had come out earlier that summer, I had seen it with my mother and sister right after we finished reading the Deathly Hallows. That book had come out the same summer and the books and movies made me feel closer to home while I was in school. School was the first time I had unlimited internet access and that plus Harry Potter led to my discovery of fanfiction. Which led to my discovery of the "well, I can do that, too" mindset. Which led to me changing my major to English (like anyone needs more writers).
> 
> Originally posted on ff.net on 10/22/2007 under the username darkmorsmordreheart.

"Hello Harry."

It was five o'clock in the evening. He always came five o'clock on the dot every Sunday. Yes, he acknowledged that five o'clock on a Sunday evening was a strange time for a visit, but he followed this schedule for the purpose of avoiding collisions with the schedules of others.

"How are you today?"

He tugged on unruly black hair and smiled sheepishly at the person sitting across from him.

"I'm doing alright, but the Ministry is killing me. I swear I must get more paperwork than the Minister of Magic himself."

A small smile played on his lips as he watched the other. His eyes quickly absorbed every feature of his opposite's face; the slanted cheekbones, the almond shaped eyes, even the specific tint of pink of the lips. A feeling of longing – deep and haunting – filled him; causing the heart in his chest to tighten and his eyes to water.

"Harry?"

He bit his lip as his tears began to brim over.

"Harry?"

He was sick. Sick of these last few months without the one he loved. Sick of mourning for one who was still alive. Sick of mourning in secret, unable to unveil what they had – hiding it like a dirty little secret.

"Harry... please..."

He couldn't take it. Not anymore. For God's sake, the war had been over for almost a year. Voldemort was dead.

Voldemort.

Even in death, Voldemort had taken everything from him. First his parents; his father and then his mother. The war had taken his godfather. And now, his lover.

On the day that Voldemort died, they found what remained of his body – a disgusting mass of grey and wrinkled snakeskin-like flesh – in the hands of Harry Potter. And the state they had found Harry in...

No one had any idea what had happened to the boy, seeing as he and Voldemort were the only ones to witness the event and the green-eyed hero being in no state to explain anything. Harry Potter – savior of the wizarding world, the Chosen One, and the Boy-Who-Lived – was empty. That was the only way they could explain it.

Harry Potter was empty.

And Draco Malfoy was alone.

The Dark Lord had taken everything his young silver-eyed follower. His father, the haughty and proud aristocrat that served the lord as one would serve one's own father. His mother, who had died in the young man's arms; her pale blue eyes pleading for forgiveness that he wasn't sure she could receive. His godfather, the tall, intimidating Potions master that died on his hands and knees like a mere animal before thirteen and a half inches of yew. And finally his lover; the green-eyed prince of his heart.

Harry would have preferred death.

Draco knew it. Harry would not be able to except what he was now. Just mere vegetation before a small window facing the sea to be moved and posed as a doll whenever a mediwizard had the urge to do so.

Draco had so many regrets. So many shameful regrets. He regretted ever being seduced by the Dark Lord's power. He regretted turning his back on his mother, who would have followed him to side of Light despite her devotion to her husband. He regretted that he was too scared to tell the world of the love he and Harry had shared, despite Harry's arguments for it.

Eyes so light that they almost rivaled the transparency of the tears flowing from them looked up into the face that he loved with all his life. Someone had cut Harry's hair since the last time he had visited; it now just barely skimmed the rims of his ears and fell messily across his forehead so that it covered the scar. Just the way Harry liked it. The small smile formed on Draco's lips again as he traced his love's face with his eyes.

Harry's lips were slightly parted as if waiting for a kiss. His eyes were hooded and beautiful without his glasses. In his state, he would never need glasses again, Draco mused sadly. The hero's eyes seemed to be looking just over Draco's shoulder, out the window and into the sea, but Draco could see that the once emerald irises were blank and dulled to the color of wet, corroded copper.

He looked deep into those eyes, hoping and praying that he could catch just one glimpse of the Harry he once loved and who once loved him. "Come on, Harry... Please, baby. I need you... I love you... I need you..."

Even if Harry's eyes had responded, Draco would have missed it; his eyes had filmed over with new tears. He shook his head to shake them away, not noticing when a few salty drops fell onto the hands of the dark-haired man that lay motionlessly on his lap. When Draco had composed himself, he stood and gave a lighthearted rumple to Harry's already unruly locks and smiled into eyes he knew couldn't see him.

"I'll be back next Sunday at five," he said unnecessarily. "Goodbye Harry."

The silver-eyed blonde left the room quickly, the door closing behind him with a sharp click.

If only he had stayed a moment longer.

He might have noticed the dark-haired man lift his hand to his mouth and lick salty drops from it.

"Goodbye Draco."

-

It was Sunday again.

Draco carefully buttoned his crisp white shirt, careful not to do anything that could possibly wrinkle it. As soon as the soft fabric was tucked neatly into his severely pleated trousers, he reached with shaky hands to the comb on his dresser.

He didn't know how bad his hands were shaking until he tried to set the comb back down on the dresser and it clattered onto the floor instead. He took a deep calming breath. Being late was not a big deal to a man that was practically comatose. The Ministry had held him later than he had expected with its meetings on regular Muggle regulations and other general subjects that any intern would know, let alone the Head of Muggle Relations, the title Draco held proudly.

He bent to retrieve the comb and scolded himself for putting such importance on something Harry didn't realize was happening in the first place. This was just him going to see Harry. A regular occurrence that shouldn't pain him if he were to miss it. He lifted his hands eye level and smiled in satisfaction when his hands proved not to be a violently shaking wreck as they were a moment ago, but were now gently trembling. Then he laughed that the trembles were a relief to him.

It meant that he could still feel all the right feelings and not just the powerful ones.

He smiled softly and reached for his robe, but paused when he heard a slight tapping noise. It sounded familiar so he turned to the window the owls delivering his mail usually frequented and sure enough there was a large, albeit scruffy looking, barn owl standing on the sill. Draco opened the window and stepped back to let the large bird in. The fowl stuck out a leg with a scroll wrapped around it and waited patiently as Draco took the letter, then-once Draco held it in his hands-the bird spun around quickly and darted out the window, leaving one feather behind as a sign that it really was there.

Draco unrolled the scroll, annoyed that this letter-probably from the Ministry-was stopping him from seeing Harry. He began to read and thin gold-silver eyebrows lifted in shock.

_ Malfoy, _

_ As you must know, Harry has been admitted into St. Mungo's for his condition. However, he has awoken. We have no idea if this new state will last or not, but we are hopeful. You may be wondering why I am informing you of something you would otherwise have no concern with. Harry has asked for you. He says that you are late. _

_ Sincerely, Hermione Weasley _

-

Hermione looked up from one of her best friends in the world towards the door when she heard a soft knock. She looked towards her redheaded husband pointedly and he rose from his chair to open the door. She was shocked to see how different Draco looked.

He was thinner, his robes hanging loosely on his frame. His hair had the same familiar ghostly shine to it, but it seemed even paler, as if strands of genuine silver had been added to the platinum blond at his young age. His eyes seemed even more intense than last she'd seen him, which was surprising because the last time she had seen him, he was holding his dead mother in his arms. She felt her chest tighten when she saw him swallow nervously and lines formed around his mouth on skin she had remembered to be smoother than her own.

Draco nodded to the Weasleys; the patriarchs, their brood, and the in-laws. He made his way towards Hermione, avoiding eyes and bodies that seemed to take up all the space in the rather large room. When he finally reached the bushy-haired witch, he felt the heavy weight of ten pairs of eyes on his back.

"Hello Grang-uh, Mrs. Weasley," he corrected quickly.

She gave him a weak smile. "Hello Mr. Malfoy."

"Uh... About Ha-Potter?"

"Oh, yes," the witch said, turning back to her friend that was sitting in his chair facing the sea as usual. "He still seems to be here with us, but he's barely speaking. A little over an hour ago he mentioned in the loudest voice we've heard him speak in that you were late. Do you know what that's about, Mr. Malfoy?"

_ A little over an hour ago, it was five o'clock _ , Draco thought. "I don't know. Shall I try speaking to him?"

She nodded her head and stood, relinquishing her seat to tall blonde and standing besides Bill and his French wife.

Draco sat beside Harry, facing him, while the man looked at nothing in particular in front of him. The Chosen One's hair was even more unruly than usual as if he had been running his hand through it all day. There were other little signs that Harry was there with them; his fingers were twitching slightly and he was blinking more than usual, but Draco had to look into his eyes to be sure.

"Harry?"

The dark-haired man silently turned his head to face the other man and for a moment Draco felt an icy fissure of doubt. Harry was gone. His eyes were blank and dull. Empty.

But suddenly, a broad smile broke out onto his love's face.

"Draco." The voice was rough after months of not using it, but it was Harry's voice. It was really Harry. Draco could feel his eyes watering up as he watched dull green eyes sparkle and shine into electric emeralds. "Draco."

Harry's arms were suddenly reaching out to him, wrapping around him, pulling him in. He closed his eyes in pleasure and hugged back. When he heard the sharp gasp of the Weasley daughter, he pulled back. In that one beautiful moment, he had forgotten the world around them.

"Draco," Harry said again as if testing the name in his mouth and liking the taste.

"Yes?"

"You're late."

"I know, forgive me."

Harry smiled again. "Of course. Do you know where my glasses are?"

"Uh..." Draco turned and looked at the Weasleys who happened to be staring at the pair, collectively dumbstruck. "Glasses."

Ginny Weasley frowned and handed the thin frames she had been twirling in her hands to the man she suddenly felt threatened by. He took them with a nod of his head and handed them over to Harry, who didn't even spare her a glance.

Harry placed the glasses on and looked Draco directly in the eye. "Mmm, perfect."

Draco shuddered with pleasure as Harry said that. He felt eyes on the back of his neck and he reddened.

"Draco, come here," Harry invited, a flirty look in his eye.

Draco looked nervously around the room at the curious and shocked faces. "I don't think-"

"What's wrong?" Harry suddenly snapped, standing and kicking back is chair so that it rattled on the tile of the floor. "You don't want to? Am I too late? You don't want me! You don't love me! You don't! You don't need me! Why? Why! Why!"

"Harry, stop!" Ron suddenly shouted out, running up and reaching out to his friend as the young hero's powers caused the room to rattle.

"Don't touch me!" Harry hissed, cupping his hands to his head, one hand covering his scar. "Don't touch me! Draco! God, I... God... Draco..."

Draco watched in horror as Harry's eyes rolled back into his head and he fell back with such force that his glasses fell off and shattered. The pale-haired man managed to catch Harry before his convulsing form hit the floor.

Silver eyes looked into emerald.

"Draco," Harry sobbed out, clutching tightly to the blonde's arms. "Draco... you don't-"

"I do!" he shouted quickly and clearly so Harry could understand and process the words. He pulled the man against him and murmured into his ear, over and over. "I do. I do, Harry. I do."

The Weasleys watched in stunned silence as they watched Harry being consoled so intimately and caringly by his school rival. They watched as the blonde man kissed Harry's sweaty temple. And they watched as Draco reassured their hero with words of love until he calmed. Hermione watched with tears in her eyes, Ginny watched with bile in her throat, and Ron watched with rage clouding his features, but the pair just blocked out everyone else, they were so in tuned to one another.

"Draco, I love you," Harry sighed softly, inciting an angry hiss of breath from Ginny that was ignored by all the others.

Draco nodded and helped Harry to the bed that was against the wall nearest to them. "I love you, too, baby. Come on, lie down... You need the rest."

"I need you," Harry told him, his eyes wide and pleading. "I love you... I need you... I... I-I... What are you doing, Malfoy?!"

Draco started at Harry's sudden change in attitude, the brunette pulling out of his arms and pushing him away. "Get the fuck away from me!"

Draco watched with tears flowing down his face as Harry began to scream out his hatred towards the man who was his lover. He watched with a clenching heart as Harry curled himself into a ball and screamed out in pain, in fear, in hatred; ugly screams that scared him deeply. He watched as the Weasley twins pushed him aside and restrained the Chosen One against his bed, pinning his shoulders roughly to the mattress.

"Fuck you, Malfoy! Fuck you!" his love shouted, his piercing emerald eyes glowing like those of an angry serpent as he glared straight through Draco. Draco stood motionless, powerless as the Weasleys around him sprung into action.

Hermione placed a gentle hand on the pale, shaking man's shoulder and suggested softly that he leave the room for a moment. He nodded and turned away as Harry began to chant a mantra of  _ I hate you, I hate you _ . He closed the door behind him with a sharp click and leaned against the wall beside it, letting his tears flow out in all their intensity.

That was how the Weasleys found him, on his knees, curled against the wall, sobbing his eyes out. He looked up at them, squinting through his tears to register the yellow-orange halo that adorned a majority of their heads, before gulping in his tears and standing straight. The door to Harry's room was still open, but with so many Weasleys crowding the passage, Draco couldn't into it.

"Move."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Hermione's quiet voice answered as the family made a united front against him.

"Move!" he ordered, using his magic and physical strength to push through them, ignoring the  _ "Draco, no!" _ behind him. He rushed into the room and stopped short when he saw Harry on the bed.

Harry was a motionless mass on the small clinical bed. His body was rigid and his eyes were bloodshot and wide open, wetness falling from the corners and dampening the sheets beneath his head. His blank green stare was on the ceiling, the expression on his face was not one of contentment. He looked to be in as much emotional turmoil as Draco himself was going through and it looked to be permanent. He jaw was clenched tightly as if holding back a scream.

Draco's eyes, already sore from earlier tears, began to overflow as he looked at the state of his lover.

"Oh God, Harry."

"Draco?" His head snapped from the man before him to the direction of the door. He looked at the family, united and comforting to one another, defensive and angry to him. He set his jaw and turned away from Harry.

"Yes, Weasley?"

Hermione's spine stiffened at the cold tone of Draco's voice. This was the Slytherin they once knew. "I just wanted to know if you were..."

"Don't tell me that you're seriously concerned for me, Weasley," he scoffed, satisfied when he saw anger flash across her patient, understanding expression. She didn't understand shit and it was about time she acknowledged that. He turned back to his lover, muttered a goodbye and strode through the Weasleys to leave the room that was suddenly too hot and too small for him.

And no one heard the words that came from Harry's mouth; they were all too entranced by the blonde's dramatic exit.

"Goodbye Draco."

-

It was Sunday again.

Draco was distracted and torn. The Ministry was sending him owls stating how the Department of Muggle Regulations didn't need him today, but hinting heavily how nice it would be if he did show up. Of course, Draco didn't want to go to work on a Sunday, but thinking back to last week...

It was almost five o'clock.

Fifteen minutes was all he had to make his choice. Would he stay or would he go?

Last time he was late, Harry woke up.

Oh God, Harry. He was the same. Exactly the same. His broad smile added a crinkle around his almond shaped eyes. Eyes that glittered and shone with love for Draco. Eyes that shone because of Draco.

Until Draco refused him. His breath hitched as he thought how stupid the whole thing was. He should have just accepted Harry's intimate embrace, despite the redheaded family that stood in the same room, watching intently. He should not have hesitated to take his lover in is arms. He should not have cared what the Weasleys would have thought of him. What they would have thought of Harry.

He shouldn't have, but he did.

And Harry - his hero; so strong and so brave, so absolutely perfect - had broken down before his eyes. There had been no experience more painful for Draco.

He felt the tears coming, taunting him behind silver eyes, but he pushed them back with a deep cleansing breath. No more tears. He lifted his head from the position it held in his hands for the last hour. He looked across the room to the old Muggle grandfather clock, almost hypnotized by the large gold pendulum.

There were only two minutes to five o'clock.

He clenched his fists tight to stop the slight tremble - his nails digging into his own pale flesh - he made his choice and he Apprarated.

-

"Hello Mister Malfoy."

"Hello, Madam Fokus," he replied curtly to the short, grey-haired witched that stood between him and the door of his lover's room. "Is something the matter?"

"Well, Mister Potter has awoken again and he is currently being visited by his family."

Draco cringed as the simple words left the witch's mouth.  _ His family _ . That obviously meant the Weasleys, who wanted no part in him or the relationship he and Harry shared. "Has... Did he just wake?"

"No, he woke the day before yesterday," she informed him, observing as her words had a crushing effect on the tired looking young man.

"The day..." Draco trailed off, knowing good and well that the Weasleys would stand between him and Harry and that was why they hadn't informed him. Especially since the fiasco last week...

He wondered if Harry had asked for him again. He wondered if his redheaded enemies had refused Harry's request, or worse, told the green-eyed man that Draco had not wanted to see him. He refused to even acknowledge the possibility that Harry had never asked for him, but he could not prevent the sinking feeling in his chest.

Maybe it was all for the best.

"Would you like me to inform the patient of your visit, Mister Malfoy?" the older witch asked. The young man gave a slight shake of his head and turned away. She watched him stride away from her, his silvery-blond head hung low, his shoulders sloped, and an unbearable air of hopelessness surrounding him. He hesitated when he reached the end of the corridor as if he had no idea how he had gotten there and turned back to the witch. Or more so, to the closed door that stood behind her.

After one more wistful glance and the young man disappeared with a faint  _ pop _ .

-

Draco read the papers, he heard the gossip, and he saw proof of it.

Harry Potter - the greatest wizard, the one that defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named - was back.

It had been two months since his last attempt to visit Harry at St. Mungo's. Two months exactly, and Harry had been released with a full bill of health.

_ Boy-who-lived Once Again On Top of His Game _ ,  _ the Prophet _ announced.  _ Harry Overcomes, Yet Again! The Chosen One Lives! Our Savior Returns! _

Draco smiled bitterly at the articles that revered Harry's name. New articles written by the same journalists that bashed their supposed savior when they thought he would never return. Every article came with a picture of Harry before the Great War. Harry smiling for a picture at the TriWizard Cup. Harry on the day he became an auror. Harry on the day he was announced Head Auror. All smiling, waving images of the young wizard of the past. It seemed that no one was able to get a recent picture or maybe they had, but refused to project anything but a young, strong hero. Surely the wizarding world wouldn't want to see a sickly pale, skin and bones man as one of their best and brightest.

Draco threw down  _ the Prophet _ next to his untouched cup of tea and walked to the fireplace, grabbing a handful of floo powder and disappearing into a sea of green flames.

"Uh, Mister Malfoy?"

The Head of the Department of Muggle Relations looked up from his paperwork to the frightened face of his usually calm secretary, Mona.

"What?"

"Er... The Minister would like you to meet him in the lobby."

"Why?"

"He's making that request of the other Heads of Departments as well."

"Why?"

"Well... because Harry Potter is coming, sir." Mona had heard rumors of her bosses distaste for the wizarding hero, but the look on his face, one of pure revulsion, proved all the statements she had ever heard.

"Very well, Mona. Inform the Minister that I will be there... When is this happening?"

"Er... now."

"So why am I just now hearing of this development?" Draco asked, a casual lilt to his voice, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"I thought you would be angry."

"You are very much correct. Leave now." He stood and strode out the door before Mona could even move. His robes billowed around him as rushed to the lobby. When he reached the large open room, feeling sickly nervous and, sure enough, there was a crowd of journalists, photographers, fans and the many Heads of the many Departments around a lone figure.

Draco saw him through the crowd before he could see Draco.

He was shaking hands, his expression tight and fake, a diplomatic smile pasted on his face under the glare of the familiar frames of his glasses. Draco's chest tightened as he looked upon his former lover. Harry was so beautiful. He must have spent some time in the sun, his skin glowed slightly golden. Someone must have been encouraging to eat; the body under the new dark green robes was lean and trim instead of lanky and awkward. The only problem was the hair. It fell just below Harry's ear, a fact that Draco knew annoyed the green-eyed hero. He must have been too busy to get a haircut.

Draco looked to the figure beside Harry, the short stature of the Minister of Magic puffing itself up for the pictures. Just as Draco realized that he could sneak away from all of this unnoticed by the Minister, emerald eyes locked with silver.

The fake smile seemed to have melted off Harry's face, only to be replaced with one of pure pleasure. The smile was so stunning that a few people, Draco himself, gasped. Harry pulled himself out of the Minister's grip and made his way through the crowd to Draco, the smile on his face only widening as he got closer. Draco couldn't move, as if he was glued to where he stood with Harry getting closer and closer.

People moved and made way for their savior, instantly seeing that his path collided with where Draco stood. Flashes of magical cameras flashed frantically around them as Harry stopped merely a foot away from Draco.

The pale blonde closed his eyes, but still felt the glare of green eyes on his face. His cheeks. His chin. His brow. His lips.

"Draco."

He finally opened his eyes and gasped in shock as he watched a single tear fall from one emerald eye.

"Draco."

Suddenly he was in Harry's arms, his lips on Harry's, his tongue against Harry's. Harry was cupping his face. Harry was telling him that he loved him. Harry was crying... No, that wasn't right,  _ he _ was crying, but Harry was crying with him. And hugging with him. And kissing with him. And loving with him in front of the whole wizarding world. He moaned in pleasure at how good it felt.

And suddenly it was over.

And Harry collapsed in his arms.

-

Draco read  _ the Prophet _ , one of the many papers that featured the story of Draco and Harry's kiss, one of the few papers that didn't claim the kiss to be an aftereffect of Harry's condition and the only paper that didn't feature a picture of the infamous kiss. Instead, the paper had chosen to immortalize Harry's first tear, claiming it was the tear a man cried when he finally saw his true love after such a long time apart. Draco flipped back to the beginning of the multiple paged article to see who the author was. He laughed out loud when he read the name: Hermione Weasley.

He continued to smile until he heard a soft voice behind him.

"Draco?"

He turned slowly and stood to face the back man who had been staring blankly out into the sea for the last three days.

"Hello Harry." He walked towards the high backed chair Harry frequented and stood next to it, his hand resting on the back, just above Harry's shoulder.

"Hello Draco." Harry said softly, still as motionless as ever. "How long was I gone this time?"

"Three days."

"Shit," he swore under his breath. He turned his head up, towards Draco and smiled. "I'm sorry. I have occasional episodes."

"I know. Madam Fokus informed me, but she also said that they usually only lasted for a couple hours."

Harry frowned at the frightened tone of the blonde's voice and tried to make eye contact, but Draco only continued to stare out the window, into the sea. "You're scared that I'll be gone again, aren't you?"

"I'm always scared that you'll leave me."

"Draco," Harry sighed, putting his hands flat against the armrests to push himself up. Harry stood, so wobbly that Draco had to brace him against his own body, his leg muscles so weak after three days of nonuse. "Draco?"

Silver eyes met emerald.

"I love you, Draco." Draco's eyes filled and he could only nod. His dark counterpart stared up into the face of the man that held him, his expression one of awe. "You're so beautiful, Draco. Do you love me, too?"

"I do."

"Then I will be with you forever," Harry assured him. "Forever, do you understand?"

"Yes."

Harry wrapped his arms around the neck of the slightly taller man and breathed in his scent. "Draco, never say goodbye to me again."

Draco nodded, his tears overflowing as he felt wetness on his neck from Harry eyes. He lifted his love's chin with the tip of his finger so that their lips were level and pressed close for a light, gentle kiss. The taste of Harry was like the first breath of air after one had been drowning for so long.

He pulled back and looked deep into emerald eyes. "I love you, Harry. I'll never say goodbye again."

"Well then," Harry smiled. "Hello Draco."

"Hello again."  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I have so many questions for me from a decade ago starting with why did I make Draco the Head of Muggle Relations and ending with why so many ellipses? And then me from a decade ago would ask me if I started using ellipses correctly yet and I'd end the conversation. Thanks for reading!


End file.
